


Sunflower and Sweet Wolf

by TarnisisLH



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Gruff Geralt, Sunflower Healer, White Wolf - Freeform, Witcher AU, more fluff than plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24744946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TarnisisLH/pseuds/TarnisisLH
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

**~**

They sat together near the uppermost peaks of a mountain, watching the sunset. It had originally been Lyn’s idea, and the White Wolf had begrudgingly tagged along. Though despite his grumbling and silent treatment, it was clear he had followed her of his own accord. It was the woman’s birthday after all. And it was a simple enough wish to grant her companionship. 

After hiking the mountain for the better part of the day, they now took a breather. Lyn’s chest rose and fell heavily from the extended exertion, while Geralt watched her somewhat amused. When she caught him looking, Lyn returned his stare pointedly. 

“What are you smirking about?” 

“Nothing in particular.” His voice resounded as deep and raspy as the earth, though the humor in his tone was prevalent. “Just figured you were regretting your decision to scale the mountain.” 

“Regretting the _excessive exercise_ perhaps,” the healer joked. “But the view is well worth the strain.” She gestured to the lush green valley that lay sprawled beneath them for miles. “Is it not breathtaking?” 

“Mmm. _Breathtaking_.”

Geralt observed the well-worn plains of Lyn’s face. Her dark skin was flushed from the hike, and her chocolate brown eyes shone with delight as she looked out toward the horizon. The wind rippled her corkscrew black curls to and fro, making her laugh and try to hold them out of her eyes. She was a pretty sort, in her own way, though far from a magnificent beauty. But in that moment, Geralt had to admit that she was quite lovely. 

For several more moments, the Witcher watched his companion struggle with her hair, before he sighed and began to undo his own hair tie. Then, before she could turn around, he’d scooted closer to her and began to bunch and collect her wild hair. 

“What are you doing-?” 

Geralt shushed her, as he pulled her collected hair into a sloppy mini ponytail and used his hair-tie. He studied his handiwork before shrugging. “You know that wouldn’t have been such an ordeal, if you actually took the time to _grow_ out your hair.” 

Lyn arched an eyebrow, though no ill-humor marred her expression. “Apologies, my dear Witcher. But not all of us can have gloriously long hair like _some_ blessed individuals!” Then, she eyed his long white hair, as it blew freely in the breeze. “You sure you don’t need this thing yourself? Since yours is longer than mine?” 

Geralt made a deep noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. “Keep it. Looks better on you.” 

The Healer blushed, before she looked back towards the setting sun. “Thank you, Geralt… and not just for the compliment and the help with my hair… I’m really glad you decided to join me today. You’ve made my birthday better than it would have been...” 

The Witcher found himself at a loss. It was true that he and Lyn were good friends. They’d been so for several years now, since that fateful day when she’d saved him from the verge of death. But Geralt hadn’t known she cared quite so much for his company. . . If her expression and body language were anything to go by, she was _relieved_ by his presence. . . And something else. Some other emotion that lay just beyond the surface…. 

“Surely you could have found another willing soul to take this jaunt with you?” He had tried levity, but immediately found himself frowning when she refused to meet his golden gaze. He hadn’t meant to tease her. _Fuck. . ._ And now she was upset. 

Words failed him again. And he found himself wondering why he cared. . . But one more glance at her slumped shoulders gave him an answer. . . He didn’t _want_ to care, but he _did._ She was a good friend, and there were few that he trusted as much as the Sunflower Healer. 

“Lynara…” when she finally looked at him, his forehead furrowed with sincerity. “I didn’t mean to make light of your request... You know I am content spending the day with you.” 

“I know, Geralt.” She tried her best to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I just feel bad for bringing you all this way. But I really couldn’t be alone today. . . . You probably wonder why I wanted _you_ to come along so badly?” 

He nodded. The question had crossed his mind, more than once during their nearly day long hike. 

For a moment, Lyn seemed to consider her words, before tears began to trickle past her lashes. Geralt watched her, frozen in place. 

“Dammit! I didn’t want to do this,” she murmured to herself, trying to wipe her face clear. “I didn’t want to have you see me like this! I thought if you were here with me, that it’d be okay! That I’d be able to… _to_ -” she cut off as a wistful sob broke past her lips. She buried her face in her hands and wept, unable to say more. 

Geralt didn’t move for sometime, but eventually he reached out and pulled the sobbing woman into his side. He embraced her with one arm slung over her shoulder, and his cheek resting atop her head. And when he noticed that she was shivering with emotion and cold, he wrapped his cloak around them both. Lyn buried her face in his chest as she wept, and gripped the front of his tunic in her shaking hands. 

For sometime, this continued before Lyn’s tears turned into sniffles and she grew silent once more. 

By now, the sun was beyond their view and only several slivers of pink and orange light could be seen in the sky. Darkness was falling and the world prepared for slumber. But the Witcher didn’t move. He could see well enough in the dark, and could make them a fire in time. But his companion’s despair… well, that was far more pressing. 

From her place bundled into his side, Lyn sighed, drawing Geralt’s attention. 

“I’m sorry, Geralt. . . I’ve ruined everything.” 

His raspy reply was immediate. “You’ve ruined _nothing_.” 

“You say that because you’re unaware.” When he stared down at her blankly, she added, “You don’t know the true reason I asked you to accompany me today, Geralt.” 

“Mmmm.” He didn’t speak for several minutes, before his golden eyes returned to the healer’s face. “Then why don’t you tell me? You’ve already wept your fill. What else have you got to lose?” 

Lyn laughed without humor, and her dark eyes showed such an acute pain that Geralt unwittingly held her tighter. He’d seen sparks of sorrow from her before, but never anything so deep. . . Or perhaps, it’d always been there, and he’d just never been close enough to see it. . . 

“I was selfish to bring you here, sweet wolf. And I am sorry.” Lyn’s voice quivered as she fought down the urge to cry again. 

Geralt’s brow rose at the pet name she’d chosen. _Sweet wolf?_ He’d been called many different names in his lifetime (mainly profanity or variants of _‘Witcher scum’_ ), but never _that_ . . . No one had ever believed him to be _sweet_. Not even his own mother. . . 

When she spoke again a moment later, Geralt gave his full attention to her words. Her heart beat increased in tempo as she explained, and it didn’t escape his notice… 

“I asked you to come with me because I couldn’t stand to spend today alone! And it wasn’t simply because it was my birthday! . . . It’s so much more than that. I’ve felt terrible, dragging you along with such pretense. You mean so much to me, Geralt. . . And I don’t want to lose our friendship.” 

Lyn hesitated for a time and closed her eyes. Geralt had no intention of rushing her and instead tried to exude a calm aura. He made his breathing deep and peaceful, and noticed that Lyn unknowingly mimicked him. He smiled to himself, as he once more drew her closer in his arms and wrapped the cloak about them more securely. She was still shivering, but his naturally high body heat had already begun to warm her. 

“How much do you know of my past, Geralt?” The question was so sudden that it took him by surprise. 

“Enough.” 

She looked out towards the appearing canopy of stars, as a bittersweet expression rose to capture her features. “You know... I was married once… He was my everything. The love of my life. He made me feel like I could do _anything_. That my inner darkness didn’t matter; that I could overcome it all. But I was wrong, Geralt. I’m walking proof that his love wasn’t enough.” 

Her voice grew weak as she whispered, “I had a son too, once upon a time. . . A beautiful little boy. Freckles for days and eyes as blue as his father’s. . . He was my world.” 

Geralt's eyes closed as understanding hit him. His sympathy for her in that moment was overpowering. “...How did they die?” 

“They died because of my darkness, Geralt. I was too weak to keep them with me. Too broken to save them from the depths of creation and magic…” A sharp bark of laughter shattered the heartbroken silence, as Lyn’s eyes glowed with more tears. “I miss them so much! Every day I am reminded of what I’ve lost! But I thought! . . . I thought-” She stopped. 

Finally Geralt spoke. “You thought that the pain might not be as unbearable, if you weren’t alone.” 

“Yes.” Came the watery reply. “And it _had_ to be _you._ Because you’re the only one…” She couldn’t meet his gaze. “You’re the only person I’ve met who made me feel happy again… The only one who made me feel true _hope._ I thought my heart had been shattered permanently… But when I’m with you, I don’t feel so broken or lonely. I feel like maybe… I can have _peace_.” 

Lyn pulled away from Geralt and out of the cloak. She stared at him, laying all of her emotions bare for him to see. Even in the growing darkness, the Witcher saw them clearly. 

The _tenderness._ The _sorrow._ The _confusion._ The _uncertainty_. 

The **_love._ **

Geralt studied Lyn’s face, before he shook his head. “And you thought this knowledge would anger me?” 

“Yes! You don’t deserve to be a _pawn_ , Geralt. No one should be a second choice!” She sounded angry enough for both of them. “You are a talented, handsome, and intelligent man! You are my friend and I care about you! I don’t want to drag you down, and I know that eventually I will. . . But I still brought you here with me!” She pointed a finger behind them, further up the mountain they’d scaled. “Vlad and Holiday, my husband and son, are laid to rest **_here_ ** **!** Lost to me forever! This mountain is their memorial! And it’s nothing but memories and regret! And I _brought_ you _here!_ I-I...” 

Lyn seemed like she would continue to rant if allowed, but the Witcher stopped her cold as he grabbed her jaw. His hand was strong enough to hold her in place, though not enough to bruise. His golden eyes gleamed resolutely in the dark, taking the healer’s breath away as they stared at one another. 

“You had the balls to share your most valued treasure with me. I don’t think that’s something that should cause offense.” He smiled and it reached up to touch his eyes. “Why should I hate you for loving your dear ones? When I would do the exact same, put in your shoes.” 

Lyn’s face crumpled as she reached up to try and pull his hand away from her jaw. But he wouldn’t budge. 

“I shouldn’t ask you for anything, Geralt. You deserve to be loved first and foremost. As a friend and . . . and otherwise.” 

“Lynara, you love fully and with complete intent. That isn’t the issue.” He said firmly, making her mouth drop open in surprise. “The quandary lies with your attempts to judge any relationship by the same standards as your last.” 

When she looked confused, he sighed deeply. _Damn it._ Why did speaking have to be so troublesome? 

“You loved your husband?” he grumbled, to which she nodded. “And you love others now. You are free to love without it being defined as the same type of love. You shouldn’t judge yourself so harshly. Your man and little boy wouldn’t want you to shut yourself away and deny yourself another chance at happiness.” 

Lyn’s face had gone slack, and Geralt’s expression softened, as did his tone. “Start anew. Keep your past close…. But don’t punish yourself for wanting a _future_.” 

In the dark of the newly fallen night, the Healer and Witcher were silent. Until, the smaller of the two asked a question. “And what of you, Geralt?” 

“Mmm?” 

“Are you willing… to be a part of my future? Even if I can’t love like I loved before?” 

The Witcher’s lips quirked up, as he shifted closer to the healer. “You are already a part of my future, Lynara. You’re like Roach. Couldn’t shake you if I tried.” 

“...And you don’t care what role you play?” 

Geralt’s golden eyes twinkled with sincerity, as he shrugged. “Friend or lover, it makes no difference. As long as we are true to ourselves.” 

A small smile grew on Lyn’s lips and she embraced him. He could feel her breath puffing out over his neck, as she murmured, “You will always be my friend, Geralt of Riveia. And in time… perhaps…. my- _my._..” 

“Your lover?” he rasped deeply, finishing her sentence. 

She answered by planting a tender kiss to the side of his mouth, catching him by surprise. If the blush that crept up her dark skin was any indication, she’d clearly acted on impulse and without thinking. 

Geralt chuckled humorously. “ _Mmmm_. Who’d have thought the sunflower healer would be brave enough to kiss a Witcher.” 

“Is it bravery to kiss a Witcher? I thought it was just a natural progression?” Geralt hummed appreciatively at her show of humor. It was good to see her smiling and teasing again. 

“Tell that to the good townsfolk, next time they run me out of a tavern,” Geralt scoffed.

“I doubt you’d enjoy all the townsfolk if they kissed you _instead_ of cursed you, Geralt.” Lyn smiled at his immediately stricken expression, which turned into a gentle laugh when he groaned at the imagery. 

“Mmmm.” 

“ _Mmm_ , right back at you,” she said affectionately, as Geralt took off his cloak and wrapped it securely around her. 

When he was sure she was settled, he went about setting up the tent they’d brought and lighting a fire. Lyn tried to return the cloak to him, but he refused with a smirk. “No. We’ll be sharing it soon enough.” 

When she blushed, he ‘hmmed’ and went back to his tasks. And when the fire roared with life and the small tent was pitched, the Witcher made good on his promise. Once he had his cloak back on and was in the tent, he pulled the healer into his lap and wrapped them both in the warm cloth. At first Lyn was embarrassed and flustered by her new seat, but as time passed she melted against the massive man who held her. 

When the moon rose, Geralt placed a kiss to her hair. “Lyn?” 

“Yes, Geralt?” 

“... Will you sing?” 

“Would you like me to?” 

“...Mmmmm.” 

When she laughed, he could feel it all the way through his spine. 

She obliged him willingly, as she began to hum and then sing a song of healing. Her voice was gentle and fairy-like on the breeze, and Geralt found himself dozing off. But before he fell asleep, he murmured in the healer’s ear, “Happy birthday, Sunflower.” 

“Thank you,” Lyn whispered back, even as he drifted off. “Sweet wolf.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

* * *

The Witcher knew he looked like hell. But when Lyn opened her cottage door and proceeded to stare at him in bewilderment, he began to wonder if it was worse than he’d originally thought. 

“Geralt..? _ ” _

“Sunflower,” his greeting was hoarse but pleasant enough. 

“What in the  _ aerie-fire  _ happened to you?. . . Are you going to live?” 

Geralt had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing, grimacing after raising his brow. “That’s the plan. . . With your help.” 

He was pressed against the archway of her cottage door, bleeding over the threshold and swaying somewhat dangerously. 

For a second Lyn observed him, before she reached out and placed her arm around his lower back. She supported and helped him to her chair next to the fireplace, before closing the cottage door and giving him her full attention. It was clear she’d been asleep before he’d come knocking, haphazardly dressed in her nightgown and shawl. But she wasted no time in examining his wound and bombarding him with practical questions. Fae bless her. 

“How long have you been bleeding?” 

“Twenty minutes, give or take.” 

“Lucky your heart beats slower than the rest of us, or you’d have bled out by now.” She said it mildly, but he could see from the glint in her chocolate eyes that she was worried. “I need you to remove your shirt. Do you need help?” 

The Witcher’s mouth quirked despite his pain, as he gingerly shrugged off what was left of his tunic. “Trying to get me undressed already, Lyn? What will your neighbors say?” 

Seeing as she had  _ no  _ neighbors to speak of, Lyn snorted. “Not a bloody thing, ya cheeky wolf.” She moved forward and studied the wound closer. Now that his tunic was out of the way, both were able to see the layers of the bitemark, spanning in a nearly perfect unbroken circle. It extended over most of Geralt’s stomach and torso and not only seemed deep, but infected as well. 

Geralt held perfectly still as Lyn inspected him, but found himself inadvertently growling when her fingers dipped into his flesh. She flashed him an apologetic look, before twisting and pulling out what looked to be an embedded tooth. 

Her eyes grew wide as she reached in again and pulled out several more teeth from inside the wound. “Damn. Any idea  _ what _ bit you?” 

“No. I was sleeping when it attacked. . . I killed it without getting a proper look.” 

“Can you tell me anything about it? Any information could be useful.” 

He considered. “The thing disappeared into dust when I stabbed it with my knife. It was the size of a small dog and reptilian-like, had no legs or fur. It moved  _ strangely _ , and it felt like it was  _ sucking _ on me.” 

“Like a leech? With tons of teeth?” 

He nodded, wishing wordlessly for the twentieth time, that he’d been allowed to kill the thing  _ more than _ once. But his calculated rage had ended its life quickly. Now he just had to  _ live  _ long enough to enjoy the victory. 

“I was out of potions. Couldn’t get the bleeding to stop, or the skin to close. . . Can you do anything?” He asked, regarding Lyn intently. 

“I should think so,” she said, offering him a tired little smile. 

She paused, looking momentarily sad, and he knew it wasn’t going to be good. “Lynara . . . Don’t sugarcoat it. You can tell me the truth.” 

“I am,” she said, shaking her head. “I know I have the skill needed to heal you. But I have to pull all the teeth out  _ first _ . Some look to be  _ very _ deep. . . It’s going to hurt.” 

His eyes flashed briefly with annoyance, before he sighed and leaned back in the chair. It seemed the little bastard had had the last laugh after all. 

At his somewhat relaxed position, the Sunflower Healer drew closer with a pair of cleansed tweezers in hand. She met his golden gaze steadily, silently asking for permission and forgiveness, before she began the tedious work of removing the creature’s teeth from Geralt’s skin. 

The first layer wasn’t too bad. He’d experienced far worse in his sparring matches at Kaer Morhen. But when she began pulling back his torn flesh and digging deeper, he found himself gripping the arms of the chair. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, continuing the gruesome work, after handing him a calfskin of sweetened ale. It was a paltry offering, but it was all she had in the way of spirits. And  _ some _ alcohol was better than  _ none _ . “I’m almost done.”

Geralt groaned as she began on the last set, cursing as he threw back the remaining ale without blinking. His chest and stomach muscles contracted laboriously, as more blood and puss began to leak down. He closed his eyes and fought to remain calm, forcing his focus to stay on the gentle buzz of the ale and the familiar smell of lemon and vanilla. 

The healer worked fast and efficiently, going quickly to spare him extended pain and more blood loss. It was only a matter of minutes before she dug out the last tooth (bigger and more pointed than the others had been) with a flourish. 

Geralt watched as she placed the collection of razor-sharp shards into her fireplace. After muttering several words over the flames, the teeth began to sizzle and melt. This was more satisfying to the Witcher than he would ever admit, but his expression left little to the imagination as he sneered at the remnants of his foe. 

Now that she’d taken care of the first step, Lyn bustled about the cottage gathering bottles of ready made poultices and elixirs. Then she bent over Geralt and began to gently slather them on every inch of the wound. She meticulously cleaned and treated every inch. 

A deep noise in the back of his throat was the only sign that it affected him. He watched Lyn’s hands move over the acrid opening. She barely touched him. It was a credit to her gift, as well as her kind nature. He’d come for help in the middle of the night. He’d given her no warning, offered no payment, and she’d jumped into action without a single word of complaint. 

The Sunflower truly was a force to be reckoned with. 

Geralt didn’t realize he was smiling until Lyn’s brow rose. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” he murmured, golden eyes shining despite himself. 

Lyn observed his smile before her expression grew playful. “It doesn’t look like  _ nothing _ , but I won’t pry. I’m just happy to see your spirits high. You’ve had a hellish night.”

“Mmm. I’ve had worse.” His tone was full of humor, making her laugh. 

“And you’ve definitely had  _ better _ !” 

Geralt wouldn’t argue. She was right and they both knew it. 

Lyn finished applying the salves, before she examined her handiwork. Then, she leaned her forehead against Geralts’, surprising him. “Instead of sewing it closed, I’m going to use  _ magick _ . But I’m going to need you to let me in, Geralt. Clear your mind and try to relax.” 

The White Wolf obeyed, closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths. He could feel Lyn’s forehead pressing against his sweaty one, her skin smooth and cool. She exuded affection and comfort, and he found his hands creeping up from the arms of the chair to capture her waist. 

He felt her shiver, but neither moved again for a long time. He held her close, while she whispered life back into his body, and when Geralt finally opened his eyes again, his torso was no longer bleeding. 

The large pink scars were proof of his near-death experience, but everything else had been taken care of. No blood, no infection, no gaping hole. Only an undeniable ache and the striking scars were left to remind him of his nightmarish rendezvous. Something he was all too grateful for. 

“It’s going to hurt for a few days. That’s normal. But are you currently experiencing any sharp pain?” Lyn asked, gauging his face for an answer, even as she fought fatigue of her own. She was a natural-born healer, but such an in depth healing was bound to drain her inner magick. It was a miracle she was still standing. 

Geralt shook his head. “No. You’ve outdone yourself.” 

Lyn’s relief was palpable as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Good. That was too close for comfort.” 

“I’m sorry to make you worry,” he said after a moment, almost shyly. His hands still lingered against her hips, his fingers splayed across either side, as he stared at her unblinking. 

“I always worry about you, Geralt. But I know it can’t be helped. Your calling in life is a dangerous one. I’m just glad you were able to reach me in time tonight.” 

Geralt hummed his agreement, before finally letting go of Lyn and leaning back into the chair again. His hair was matted against his skull, his skin was pale and clammy, and he knew it would be a good while before he was up to walking. . . But even so, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so at peace. 

An odd revelation, though tonight had been a  _ record _ for oddities. 

Lyn recognized his exhaustion and brushed his shoulder as she moved to wrap a bandage around his middle. Even with her magick in effect, she wasn’t one to take chances. 

“Where’s Roach?” She asked offhandedly, finishing her neat bandage. 

“Outside your garden gate. I didn’t have time to tie the lead properly.” He could barely keep his eyes open, as he replied. 

Lyn gave him a half hug, once more enveloping him in the scent of lemon and vanilla. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she’s settled and given some apples for her trouble.” 

Geralt was grateful, but found that words weren’t forming on his tongue. He was too tired to formulate, but somehow Lyn seemed to understand just fine. 

While he fought unconsciousness, the Sunflower Healer moved her sleeping cot next to the Witcher’s feet. Then, with extraordinary care, she helped him slide down onto it. Once he was flat, she covered him up in several blankets and disappeared to check on Roach with a lantern in hand. 

Geralt slipped in and out of wakefulness, as he waited for her to come back inside. Though he didn’t have to worry. Even after using her powers, the Sunflower was formidable and wasn’t one to give in to fatigue.

Lyn snuck back into the cottage silently sometime later, blowing out the lantern and hanging up her shawl. Geralt blinked groggily, before he opened the edge of the covers for her. In the dancing light of the fireplace, he could have sworn that she blushed, but he couldn’t say for sure. Without further prompting, she scuttled over and climbed in. 

Once they were settled, side by side beneath the covers, Geralt brought his arm around Lyn. There was nothing lustful about the action, seeing as both were far too tired from the events of the night. But it didn’t stop Geralt from humming appreciatively, as he rested his chin atop the healer’s head. 

“I doubt either of us will be comfortable like this for long, Geralt.” 

But Geralt didn’t answer her humorous comment. He was already fast asleep, snoring quietly. 

Lyn chuckled as she watched him for several minutes. His face was peacefully slack as he slept. Forever handsome and warm in her eyes, but still a wolf ready to strike. 

After observing him for a time, Lyn felt her own eyelids begin to droop, as she placed an affectionate kiss to the Witcher’s jawline and cuddled against him, drifting into a tranquil slumber of her own. 

  
  



End file.
